


What Remains

by SaltyStrawberry



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Drabble, Gore, Post Joui War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyStrawberry/pseuds/SaltyStrawberry
Summary: With the war over, Shinsuke faces the consequences of the loss.





	What Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Beware the tags - reader discretion is advised.

There were crows everywhere. Rain didn't bother them as they hopped from one corpse to another ravenously pecking the flesh. Fresh and raw, there was food in abundance. It was a feast for the victorious ones.

Shinsuke hated the sight of them.

 _Gya! gya!_ they were mocking as he walked through the battlefield. He kept stumbling every time he remembered to pick up the pace; with every passing hour the corpses were becoming less and less recognisable. The body to his left had already lost most of its intensities to the crows with the belly cut wide open. Shinsuke looked hard at the sunken face before he continued on. The field was vast but he knew where to look.

Another corpse, with a bunch of crows covering its face. Shinsuke swung his sword to chase them away and forced himself to look at the sight. There was little skin left, one eyeball hanging while the other was missing. Whiteness of the skull peeked from the bloodied cheek. Shinsuke turned his gaze to the rest of the body and crouched. Inside his robes was a familiar pocket watch. Shinsuke took it into is hand and spat on it, rubbing it into his clothes until the metal shone through layers of smudge. He pressed the watch to his ear and listened to the ticking inside. There was no need to look at the time.

Putting the pocket watch back, Shinsuke heaved the corpse onto his back and started carried it back. When the head rolled to his shoulder, he tasted bile in his mouth. Finally, he reached the improvised grave. Shinsuke laid the body down with care and put the pocket watch into the man’s hand. There was no spade, so he made do with his arms when he buried him. After he was done, he wrote the name in the muddy ground and thrust the soldier’s sword into it.

Exhausted, Shinsuke fell to his knees, the words stuck in his throat as he let the rain wash away the misery.

Then he went to search for more.

***

It took twelve days to burry those who had died on the battlefield. Shinsuke worked restlessly, finding a sense of safety in the pattern. The hardest part was writing down the names. For some names it took a while to remember, and for some corpses it took a while to recognise. Each came with a memory that now felt foreign.

He supposed they died the way they wanted to – taking the enemy with them to hell. They were the lucky ones. Those who followed him to the end were less so.

The remains of the third division were laid on the other side of battlefield. There was no need to look for them one by one among the remains of the troops, for they were killed together.

Shinsuke could feel the ropes that had rendered him helpless. It was a scene from ell; not one man died by a clean cut. He walked over to the first body. The neck was cut wide, but it didn’t manage to detach the head.

When they captured him, they had pushed Shinsuke on the ground and held his head tightly, forcing him to watch his comrades get slaughtered before his eyes. Just like him, they were helplessly kneeling on the ground, waiting for their turn.

Yuuta was first; beheaded in three sloppy strikes. Akira was stabbed eight times. Kei got his limbs torn off, Yuki’s belly was cut open and bled out, Hajime, who had been laughing defiantly until they cut his tongue out. Shinsuke had not let out a sound as he watched. Not even when Satoru, a boy of fifteen, was being beaten to death.

If that was the price, then he would pay it. Their lives, his life, it didn’t matter as long as Gintoki kept his promise.

Shinsuke came to the broken body of the boy. He remembered Satoru had an older brother who got injured not long ago. He should have left with him. Battlefield was not a place for boys. Satoru was unnaturally light as he carried him to the grave. As he was giving the last name to the earth, Shinsuke felt again the same words clenching in his throat. He would not utter them.

He had no right to apologise.


End file.
